scoonts.theminotaur-第36部分

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　The　lab　man　checked　the　back　of　the　photo　for　the　number　of　the　negative。　He　excused　himself　and　left。　Camacho　sat　in　his　chair　and　stared　at　the　face。　Thick　cheeks；　rounded　chin；　the　suggestion　of　a　fleshy　nose。　He　had　seen　that　face　before。　He　picked　up　the　phone：　〃Dreyfus；　bring　in　the　mug　book　of　Soviet　embassy　personnel。〃
　It　took　twenty　minutes；　but　Camacho　and　Dreyfus　finally　agreed。　The　man　in　Mrs。　Jackson's　photo　was　Vasily　Pochinkov；　assistant　agricultural　officer　at　the　Soviet　embassy。
　〃These　black　dudes。〃　Camacho　tapped　the　stack。　〃Take　these　over　to　the　D。C。　police　and　go　through　the　mug　books。　They'll　be　in　there。〃
　
　〃Your　father　agreed　that　under　the　circumstances　I　should　e。〃
　〃Thank　you；　Mother。　Thank　you；〃　Lucy　said。
　〃You　should　thank　your　father　too。　He　was　going　to　use　this　money　for　a　down　payment　on　a　new　car。〃
　〃Yes；〃　Lucy　said；　trying　to　hold　back　the　tears。
　〃He　loves　you　too；　Lucy。　He　always　wanted　what　was　best　for　you。〃
　〃I　know。　Mom。〃
　〃I'll　be　there　day　after　tomorrow　at　one　o'clock。　Dulles。〃　She　gave　Lucy　the　flight　number。　〃Can　you　meet　me？〃
　〃The　kids　and　I'll　be　there。　Thanks　so　much；　Mom。　I　really　need　you。〃
　〃I　know；　baby。　I　know。　Just　don't　tell　Terry　I'm　ing。〃
　
　From　his　window　seat　Jake　stared　at　the　mountains　and　forests　through　the　gaps　in　the　cloud　cover　as　the　Boeing　727　descended　into　the　twilight。　The　mountain　ridges　ran　off　to　the　northeast　between　valleys　now　dark　and　murky；　enlivened　only　by　the　twinkling　jewels　of　towns　and　villages。
　Over　the　Shenandoah　Valley　the　727　pilot　broke　his　descent。　Jake　felt　the　gentle　adjustment　in　nose　attitude　and　the　power　addition。　Now　the　left　wing　rose　and　the　pilot　eased　to　a　new　heading；　still　in　a　descent。　This　long　glide　back　to　earth　was　the　best　part；　Jake　decided；　the　best　part　of　the　flight　after　hours　in　the　stratosphere。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　became　one　with　the　plane　as　the　pilot　leveled　the　wings　and　made　another　power　adjustment。　He　could　feel　the　controls；　the　stick　and　throttles　in　his　hands；　the…
　〃Is　your　seat　belt　fastened；　sir？〃
　〃Oh　yes。〃　Jake　moved　the　newspaper　on　his　lap　so　the　stewardess　could　visually　check。　She　smiled　automatically　and　moved　on。
　Your　return　from　the　sky　should　be　gentle　and　slow　so　that　all　the　bittersweet　flavor　can　be　savored。　The　airspeed　and　altitude　that　held　you　so　high　above　the　earth　should　be　surrendered　gradually；　not…Arggh！　What's　the　use？　Why　long　for　things　that　cannot　be　again？　Stop　it；　Grafton！　Stop　wishing　and　longing　and　tasting　the　things　of　the　past。
　Power　back；　almost　to　idle。　He　heard　the　high…pitched　whine　of　the　flap　motor　and　checked　the　wing。　The　pilot　was　milking　them　out　as　he　turned　yet　again；　no　doubt　following　instructions　from　Air　Traffic　Control。　The　earth　was　only　three　or　four　thousand　feet　below　and　headlights　of　cars　and　trucks　were　visible。　Farmhouses；　towns；　highways；　dark　woodlots；　all　slipped　past　beneath　as　the　pilot　in　the　cockpit　of　the　airliner　milked　the　flaps　out　further　and　eased　left　in　a　long　sweeping　turn　that　would　probably　line　him　up　for　the　approach　into　Dulles。　Jake　waited。　He　was　rewarded　with　a　trunk　and　hum　as　the　gear　doors　opened　and　the　main　mounts　were　lowered　into　the　slipstream。
　You　miss　it　too　much；　he　told　himself。　Too　much。
　Callie　was　waiting　when　Jake　stepped　out　of　the　shuttle　bus　onto　the　concourse。　He　saw　her　and　grinned；　and　walked　right　into　the　fat　lady　ahead　of　him。　She　had　stopped　dead　and　bent　over　to　scoop　two　children　into　her　arms。　The　children　piped　their　wele　to　their　grandmother　as　the　line…of　people　behind　came　to　a　jerky　halt。　Callie　watched　with　a　wide　grin　on　her　face。
　〃Hi；　Mom；〃　Jake　said　as　he　put　his　arm　over　her　shoulder。
　The　grin　got　even　wider　and　her　eyes　sparkled。　〃Hi；　Dad。〃
　〃We're　not　really　going　to　do　that；　are　we？　Call　each　other　Mom　and　Dad？〃
　〃Maybe。　Every　now　and　then。〃
　〃Miss　me？〃
　〃A　teeny　tiny　little　bit。　I'm　getting　used　to　having　you　around。〃
　
　10
　
　The　plane　to　Washington　was　full。　By　some　quirk。　Toad　was　assigned　a　window　seat　and　Rita　was　given　the　middle　seat　beside　him。　She　asked　about　an　aisle　or　window　seat　and　was　told　by　the　harried　agent　that　there　were　no　more　seats。　Rita　looked　up　and　down　the　counter　at　the　lines　of　people　waiting　to　check　baggage　and　get　seat　assignments；　then　turned　back　to　the　clerk　and　grinned。　〃That'll　be　fine；　thank　you。〃
　Moravia　had　her　hair　pulled　back　and　rolled　tightly。　Her　white　boater　hat　sat　squarely；　primly　on　the　top　of　her　head。　She　had　used　some　makeup　this　morning。　Toad　noticed；　and　a　glob　of　it　showed　on　her　right　cheek　where　she　had　failed　to　feather　it　in。　It　was　the　only　imperfection　he　could　see。　Her　navy…blue　blouse　and　skirt　showed　off　a　healthy　figure　in　a　modest　yet　sexy　way。　Toad　took　a　deep　breath　and　trailed　along　as　they　left　the　ticket　counter。　He　had　to　stride　to　get　up　beside　her。　〃Let's　get　something　to　read；〃　he　suggested。　〃We　have　time。〃　She　was　agreeable。　At　the　newsstand　Toad　looked　longingly　at　the　Playboy　and　Penthouse　magazines　with　their　covers　hidden　under　a　piece　of　black　plastic　to　keep　from　titillating　schoolboys　or　heating　up　old　ladies。　Maybe　he　should　buy　one　and　read　it　on　the　plane。　That　would　get　Moravia　all　twitchy。　He　glanced　over　to　where　she　stood　looking　at　newsmagazines　and　slicks　for　upscale　women。　No。　He　devoted　his　attention　to　the　rack　of　paperbacks　and　finally　selected　one　by　Kurt　Vonnegut。　Slaughterhouse…Five　was　Toad's　favorite　book。　Vonnegut　knew　life　was　insanity；　just　as　Toad　did；　deep　down；　in　the　place　where　he　lived。　Today　he　chose　one　called　Galapagos。
　When　the　boarding　announcement　came；　the　seats　near　the　gate　emptied　as　everyone　surged　toward　the　stewardess　guarding　the　entrance　to　the　jetway。　Toad　took　his　time　and　held　back。　Two　people　sandwiched　themselves　between　him　and　Moravia　as　they　ambled　toward　the　door；　a　guy　in　a　business　suit　with　shoulder…length　hair　and　a　woman　in　her　fifties　with　bad　knees。　Yet　somehow　when　Toad　turned　in　his　boarding　pass　he　ended　up　right　behind　Moravia　going　down　the　jetway。　There　was　another　line　waiting　to　get　through　the　airplane's　door。　He　queued　behind　her。　The　people　behind　him　pressed　forward。　His　nose　was　almost　in　her　hair。　She　was　wearing　a　delicate；　heavenly　scent。　He　inhaled　it　clear　to　his　toenails。
　They　inched　down　the　crowded　aisle　toward　their　seats。　The　air　was　stifling；　too　may　people。　Toad　felt　the　walls　closing　in　on　him。　There　was　a　woman　already　in　the　aisle　seat　in　their　row；　and　when　Toad　finished　stuffing　his　attache　case　and　bat　into　the　overhead　bin；　he　found　Moravia　was　already　in　her　seat。　The　woman　on　the　aisle　ignored　him。　Toad　muttered　his　excuses　and　edged　in　front　of　their　knees。　Rita　looked　up　from　the　operation　of　removing　her　hat　and　for　the　first　time　since　he　had　known　her　gave　him　a　warm　smile。　〃Sorry。〃
　〃No　problem；〃　Toad　said　as　he　settled　in　beside　her；　acutely　aware　of　her　physical　presence。　Too　aware。　He　adjusted　the　air　nozzle　in　the　overhead　and　turned　hers　on　too。　〃Is　this　okay？〃
　〃Thank　you。　That　helps　a　lot。〃　She　smiled　again；　beautiful　white　teeth　framed　by　lips　that。。。　Toad　looked　at　his　novel　a　while；　couldn't　get　interested；　then　scanned　the　airline　magazine　from　the　seat　pocket。　Her　skirt　had　inched　up；　revealing　her　knees。　He　obliquely　examined　her　hands。　Nails　painted　and　trimmed；　fingers　long　and　slim。　God！　He　caught　her　glancing　at　him　and　they　both　grinned　nervously　and　looked　away。　He　turned　the　overhead　air　vent　full　on　and　glued　his　face　to　the　window。
　They　were　somewhere　over　Montana　and　Toad　was　deep　into　Vonnegut's　vision　of　humans　evolving　into　seals　in　the　millennia　to　e　when　Rita　spoke　again。　〃Toad；〃　she　said　softly。
　〃Yeah；〃　She　was　looking　straight　into　his　eyes。
　〃Why　can't　you　and　I　be　friends？〃
　He　was　thunderstruck。　〃Uh。。。　aren't　we？〃
　〃You　know　what　I　mean。〃
　Toad　Tarkington　glanced　around　desperately。　No　one　was　apparently　paying　any　attention。　Those　eyes　were　looking　straight　at　him。　Just　what　does　she　mean？　There　are　friends　and　there　are　friends。　He　had　been　floating　along　footloose　and　free　and…whap！…suddenly　here　he　was；　smack　in　the　middle　of　one　of　those　delicious　ambiguities　that